


The Meaning Of Loneliness

by Whatocallmyself



Category: Digimon
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Repressed Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:13:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26939443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatocallmyself/pseuds/Whatocallmyself
Summary: Arukenimon has been reborn, but Mummymon hasn't. Her memory is hazy and in her quiet recessed life, she meets a ragged traveller who reminds her of her once loyal companion. She becomes determined to find her memories and ends up helping her new friend along the way.
Kudos: 3





	The Meaning Of Loneliness

**Author's Note:**

> Wizardmon uses he/him they/them pronouns

Dust had impacted itself under Arukenimon's fingernails. How, when she wore gloves, she wasn't quite sure, but she diligently picked the brown clods from under her nails as the spring water washed away the rest of the dirt her form had accumulated through the day.  
The only other clothing she removed were her boots which sat opposite her on the paved edge of the carved hole in the ground and she stared at them as the wind changed direction and a breeze carried a smell to her nose. Not as sensitive as it used to be, certainly not as sharp as when in her true form, but even this ridiculous humanoid form her creator had stupidly given her had sharper sense than most.  
She stilled in the water, holding her breath as she listened for the inevitable tinkling of bells coming from her security system. When they did, she set her jaw tight, teeth audibly grinding together as she listened to footsteps approach.  
Her movement out of the water was swift and as fluid as the liquid itself, droplets running down the surface of her dress and her arms and she drew herself to her full height, six towering of the small humanoid mon that approached, a sheepish look on their face.  
'I'm sorry!' They squeaked as Arukenimon glared at them, piercing violet eyes free of her glasses, swapped for food to a Gazimon who had admired them long ago. 'I didn't know anyone was here.'  
'You missed my web?' Arukenimon asked shortly, not quite sure how to take the intruder.  
'Your web?' The stranger began, frowning under their hat brim. 'Oh, apologies, I thought some mon had got too carried away with macrame.'  
'What's macrame?' Arukenimon asked, momentarily letting her guard down. 'Who are you and why shouldn't I strangle you?'  
'Just a visitor who lost their way. I'm sorry. I won't bother you further.'  
They bowed their head and turned, resting heavily on their staff as they began to walk.  
'Wait,' Arukenimon barked, a foreign pang of sympathy aching for this stranger. 'I'll start a fire, brew you some tea with some healing herbs. You can sit here for a while. The spring water is said to have healing properties.'  
'Oh, thank you,' the stranger stuttered, his thick voice not hiding the embarrassment he felt.  
She gave a nod, watching as he placed his staff down by the empty firepit and sat on one of the logs around it.  
'Allow me,' the stranger said, holding a palm to the stacked wood, a small ball of flames shooting from somewhere inside the zipper on his palm and swallowing the logs quickly, a hot but controlled fire starting.  
Arukenimon's eyebrow quirked but her senses didn't alert her of any reason to be cautious of this newcomer. She gathered the dried herbs from her collection and collected water from upstream into a pot, balancing it over the fire to boil, herbs placed inside.  
As she sat herself, she wrung her hair out between her hands, fluffing it at the roots, tutting as a few strands came away between her fingertips.  
'The insides of genvey flower is good when crushed for hair. It has a property that repairs damage,' the stranger said.  
'I know,' Arukenimon told him. 'I just can't find enough out here for my hair.'  
'It is very long.'  
'So is yours.' She looked the stranger up and down, not caring for his ragged appearance or the dark circles under their eyes. 'You never told me your name.'  
'Sorcerymon,' they answered.  
Arukenimon's mouth quirked at the corner and she drew in a sharp breath through her nose. 'I know enough about Demon Man Digimon to know you are not a Sorcerymon.'  
'What gave it away?'  
'Fire magic, for one. Your colour scheme, for another. Navy isn't the cloak colours of ice users.'  
'You know a lot about my type.'  
'Unfortunately,' she sighed.  
'Oh?'  
She got to her feet and took the pot from the fire, pouring it into two cups that sat waiting. She passed one to the visitor and held the other, sitting back on her log.  
'I grew up with one of you, Wizardmon. Hopefully not the same one - although I doubt it with you being in your Champion form still.'  
She was speaking an uncomfortable amount for her liking, telling too much about herself, her past. Her past always led to one inevitable thing. Him. And she hated him.  
Arukenimon took a sip of her drink, not caring that it scolded her lips or her mouth or her tongue as she swallowed.  
'What were they like?' Wizardmon asked.  
Arukenimon sipped her drink again and Wizardmon understood it as her answer. He too sipped his drink, pulling down his cloak cowl a little.  
'You can sleep here tonight if you wish,' Arukenimon told him.  
'Thank you. I wont bother you too long.'  
'Places to be?'  
They shook their head. 'I don't think so.'  
Arukenimon raised an eyebrow at him, lips pursing as she lowered her cup.  
'I don't really know, in all honesty. I keep getting these images in my head. I think maybe they're memories. But its like looking through… I don't know.'  
'Like looking through fog?' Arukenimon asked.  
He nodded his head. 'How do you?'  
'When I was first reborn, I was the same. It took me a long while to get my memories back.' She sipped again. 'I wish I hadn't.'  
She'd woken in a spring meadow, flowers and sweet grass in full bloom, tickling her exposed skin as she'd got to her feet. She'd felt wrong and uncomfortable in her own skin from the moment she'd opened her eyes. She wished for her beast form back. Her memory had been blank of her previous life and for a while, she had wandered the Digital World unaware and happy. Ignorance is bliss.  
The first thing she remembered from her previous time here was her beast form. She'd spent the day trying to change back to it. Climbing, picturing herself as the eight legged beauty. But nothing had come of it.  
Next she'd remembered Mummymon. Oh that love sick fool. A thorn in her side. Her best friend and her worst enemy. Sickeningly devoted to her. That's when she'd learnt what loneliness was. She missed him, her companion.  
Then she'd remembered a man. Not a Digimon. With a tired face and an often absent but kind smile. Then the man had become sinister in her dreams. Purple coat ripping at the back seams, tattered white metal wings ripping through flesh. The man had screamed, clutching his head and black hair turned to blonde, eyes bulged into a red mask, beak like nose. Claws had come from his hands and he towered above Arukenimon and she had been afraid. She'd awoken screaming, shouting the beast's name: MaloMyotismon.  
Now, she looked into the tree canopy, gatling a glimpse of a butterfly, bright white wings catching the firelight. One of them always seemed to follow her. Butterflies. Funny. Didn't spiders eat butterflies?  
'Do you remember anything from before?' She asked Wizardmon.  
He shook his head. 'No.'  
'Be glad. If it was anything like how my life was, it's not worth remembering.'  
'You must be very lonely to say that.'  
'Loneliness gets the better of us all.'


End file.
